


three minutes

by kirargent



Series: Christmas giveaway 2014 [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/F, Snow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-28
Updated: 2014-12-28
Packaged: 2018-03-04 00:48:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2903198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kirargent/pseuds/kirargent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A laugh rises up from Clarke's stomach, startled free by the wonder of it all—the snow, the fact that they're still alive, that Raven looks so damn indignant in the middle of this wonderland.</p>
            </blockquote>





	three minutes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [daielight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/daielight/gifts).



> for [daielight](http://daielight.tumblr.com) as part of my tumblr [Christmas fic giveaway](http://candycanekira.tumblr.com/post/103842609476/what-is-it-under-appreciated-fact-there-are-12) <3
> 
> also [on tumblr](http://candycanekira.tumblr.com/post/106194358986/merry-first-day-of-christmas-daielight-want)

"Clarke!" Raven calls. Her voice pinballs between the hard surfaces of the segment of fallen Ark Station where Clarke is sitting, tinny and hollow when it reaches Clarke's ears.

Clarke closes her eyes, fighting the wave of annoyance that swells in her chest. "Didn't I  _just_  ask for a few minutes of quiet? Like, thirty seconds ago?"

"Fine," Raven's voice echoes back. "If you want to miss the snow, be my guest."

Clarke goes still. The word 'snow' repeats in her head like a faulty recording.

Snow.  _Snow_.

"...Snow?" Clarke calls back hesitantly.

Raven appears in the doorway, her mouth stretched in the widest grin Clarke's seen since Raven first set foot on real dirt.

"Yeah," she says. Her voice is light, but Clarke hears layers and layers of excitement and thrill underneath her controlled tone. She sticks out a hand to help Clarke up from her seat on the floor, but Clarke clambers to her feet by herself, dumping the map of Mount Weather she's been poring over carelessly to the floor. She pushes past Raven and heads outside, the word still pounding in her pulse:  _snow_.

Cold air smacks her in the face as soon as she swings open the door; brightness stabs at her eyes. She blinks a few times. Her lips part as she looks around, taking in an entirely different world than the one she saw just hours ago. The ground of Camp Jaha has been made unrecognizable by a steadily thickening layer of white, the edges of the trees smoothed, the ground turned to a field of soft curves. A moderate breeze blows flakes of the white stuff into the Ark Station, where the white stands out against the dark metal floor for a second before dissolving.

The chill stings Clarke's skin, bites her cheeks, her chest, her hands—but she steps outside anyway, eyes wide. The cold is dulled by her shoes, but she can still feel it against the flats of her feet. Snowflakes land on her cheeks and on her arms and and her shoulders; she holds up a hand to catch some in her palm, but the flakes melt as soon as the touch her warm skin. Not to be stopped from examining the incredible substance she's only ever read about, Clarke raises her forearm to study the bits of white clinging to the fabric of her jacket.

There's a shriek from her left—she jumps, hand going to the handgun at her waist. Adrenaline sluices through her veins.

Ready to leap into action, Clarke turns, only to see a few of the 100 shaping balls out of the snow and hurling them at each other like missiles. Clarke watches, transfixed, as the packed snow hits a boy square in the chest and explodes into powder, not harming him at all.

"Incredible, huh?" says a voice from behind her.

Clarke turns, her eyes wide with wonder and a smile pulling on her lips. Raven grins at her.

"This is..." Clarke says, spinning around slowly. "This is..."

"Yeah," Raven says. "Yeah, it is."

Clarke faces her again, and they stand there smiling for who knows how long. Then Clarke is struck with sudden, unusual impulse and she drops to a crouch, scooping snow together between her hands. It's colder than she ever could've imagined. It's so cold that after a moment, it starts to feel almost stinging hot.

Hands burning with the frozen wetness, smiling so hard her cheeks hurt, Clarke winds her arm back and launches a misshapen lump of snow in Raven's direction.

The snowball bursts against Raven's shoulder; white clumps shower to the ground.

Raven's mouth drops open.

A laugh rises up from Clarke's stomach, startled free by the wonder of it all—the snow, the fact that they're still alive, that Raven looks so damn indignant in the middle of this wonderland.

"Oh, you're gonna get it now, Griffin," Raven promises.

Another laugh dancing from her lips, Clarke takes off running, her feet sinking into the snow. She hears Raven behind her, runs faster. Despite Raven's bad leg, a heavy weight slams into Clarke from behind and falls on top of her to the ground. The snow starts to seep through her cotton clothes immediately; she struggles, but only earns a laugh from Raven.

"Okay," she says, going limp, "this stuff is  _cold_. Let me up."

Her answer comes in the form of wet, cold snow shoved down the back of her shirt.

Clarke screams. She's not afraid to admit it.

" _Raven_!"

"No more throwing snow at me."

"Just let me up."

With one more handful of snow down Clarke's clothes, Raven complies.

She watches with a thin smirk as Clarke does her best to shake the snow from her back. The stuff is stickier than it looks.

"I'll have to change now," Clarke complains.

Raven's smirk gets wider. "Need some help?"

Clarke doesn't look at her, brushing snow from her front. She feels a rush of guilt for forgetting, however momentarily, that 47 of their people are still trapped in Mount Weather. She presses her lips together, shakes her head with a prim frown. "I have things to do, Raven. We can't afford to get distracted."

Raven sobers up, seeming to come back to herself. She gives a sharp nod. "Right. Of course." She steps closer, her footfalls slow and confident. With two quick movements, she grips Clarke's hands and tugs her forward; Clarke tumbles to the ground, panic flashing through her until she's sure she's not squashing Raven. Her legs bracket Raven's hips; her hands are still wrapped in Raven's.

"Three minutes," Raven says, voice gentle. "You're going to make out with me in the snow for three minutes, and then we'll get back to saving the world." A soft smile curves her lips. "Okay?"

Clarke hesitates.

Raven squeezes her hands. "Okay?"

Clarke closes her eyes and pushes away the responsibility, telling herself that three minutes won't kill anyone. She hopes, anyway.

"Okay," she says, and kisses Raven, relishing the heat of Raven's mouth and the numbing cold against her knees, fire and ice telling her she's alive, they've made it this far, Earth has good to offer as well as bad.


End file.
